An English Carol
by Randomality101
Summary: Charles Dickens' famous story of the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future...HETALIAN STYLE!
1. Chapter 1

"UGHHHHHHHHHHH I HATE YOUR BL*ODY GUTS!" England screamed, tightly grasping the letter between his shaking fingers. His scarf went wild in the winter wind, as if reflecting his anger.

It wasn't any ordinary letter. It was...it said...it said...

_Yo Iggy!  
_ _Like I am having another EPIC CHRISTMAS PARTY my house! Starts 5pm, ends 1 am! WOO-HOO! I invite you to come! Here are the things you need to bring:  
_ _Hamburgers  
_ _Cheeseburgers  
_ _Bacon Cheeseburgers  
_ _Bacon Hamburgers  
_ _Bacon Cheeseburgers w/ Sesame seeds  
_ _Double Beef Cheeseburgers  
_ _Triple Beef Cheeseburgers  
_ _Hamburgers that actually have ham in them  
_ _Super Beef Cheeseburgers  
_ _Burgers  
_ _Extra Bacon Cheeseburgers  
_ _Streamers  
_ _Yeah! So like R.V.S.P. by sometime! Bad things will happen if you don't come!  
_ _~THE HERO!  
_  
England did notice that America wrote "R.V.S.P." instead of "R.S.V.P."..._just like last year. _England also noticed that he was being forced to provide all of the food for the party..._just like last year. _England also noticed very well that America was forcing him to go to the party by threatening him..._just like last year..._

Groaning and rolling his eyes, he ran his gloved fingers over the rest of the mail. He had decided to go for a nice walk through the winter streets in the morning. When he'd returned to his residence, he had decided to look through the mailbox just to see if there was anything important. There were a few reminders from Germany telling him about the next world conference, hate letters from France, random ads, and then..._America's stupid letter. _It wasn't even in an envelope. There were handwritten words spelling "READ THIS!" scrawled all over it. England did read it. England's day was ruined.

Knowing the time to be near lunch by now, England sighed heavily, slammed his mailbox shut, and stomped through his perfectly-cleared-of-snow driveway that he was very proud of. A nearby bush rustled slightly, as if reflecting the angry turbulence in his mind. After scraping his black boots on the doormat, he entered the house and hung up his long coat. Underneath, he wore a plain green dress shirt and black pants. It was rather cold inside until he kindled a warm, red flame in the fireplace.

"HI ENGLAND!" A green blur whizzed down the stairs into England's neck, giving him a warm embrace and knocking the air out of him.

"Ah! Oh, it's you, Flying Mint Bunny!" England completely forgot his anger and laughed, hugging the rabbit back. Then its wings flapped and it took flight, and it flew in circles around England's head like an insect, giggling the entire time.

"Haha, calm down!" England cried, laughing. The bunny flew onto a wooden table where it sat down, motionless now, like one of those stone statues that guard the entrances of buildings.

"Better?" Flying Mint Bunny asked teasingly.

"Yes. Thank you. Now, I'll make us and the rest of them something to eat," England replied. By "them" he meant the other magical creatures that resided in his house. Those other magical creatures were currently playing outside in the winter snow, rolling around in the white, sparkling powder and throwing snowballs at each other until someone got hurt.

Back in the house, it was not until England had prepared the cutting board that he remembered America's little letter.

_Ugh..._England thought. _I wonder if there could be a way to avoid America's party without having bad things happen..._His mind wandered, dangerously lost in thought as his hands hastily sliced broccoli with a sharp knife.

_I could cast some kind of memory spell on him...Yes, yes, that will make him forget I'm supposed to go to his stupid party..._England devised, the knife wandering close to his left hand.

England looked down at his fingers and saved his left hand from being chopped off.

_Hm..._he thought. _What about sending a bunch of ghosts to haunt his house? Then he'll be too busy screaming with terror and the party will be forgotten! No, I can see some flaws in that plan...How about-! No, that won't work...if only I could-_

"IGGY!" a voice broke through the house.

"Urk!" England yelled. There was a _chink _as the knife went straight through the wooden cutting board. England looked around wildly. Flying Mint Bunny was gone.

"Who was that?" England shouted suspiciously.

"Me!" Little America cheered and dashed towards England, arms outstretched for a hug.

"ACK!" England yelled, as Little America literally leaped into England's arms. (Luckily, England was no longer holding the knife.)

"Hahaha! Hi, Iggy!" Little America giggled in that young, childish voice.

"What in the world?!" England muttered, thoroughly confused. The last time he checked, America was...taller...

"What are you making?" Little America asked, his innocent eyes gazing onto the wooden cutting board that had a knife stabbed into it.

"Uh...broccoli." England replied, stuttering.

"Ooooh..." Little America gazed at the broccoli, curious and interested. Then he leaped out of England's arms and ran into the house.


	2. Chapter 2

"What the **** are you doing?!" England yelled, forgetting he was talking to a young child, chasing Little America upstairs, into the attic, back onto the second floor, back onto the first floor, into the basement, back onto the first floor, and onto the second floor, where Little America stopped in front of a storage room.

Panting, England stumbled after him. Now that they'd both stopped completely, this was the first time England could really have a good look at this Little America. The child's face was innocent and chubby, with large sky-blue eyes and that signature dirty-blond hair. He was wearing a small white T-shirt and little blue pants. He was barefoot. It brought back nostalgic memories for England, but he forced himself to push them to the back of his mind for now.

"America...?"

"Yes?" the child answered, eyes bright and eager.

"Are...Are you..." England wanted to ask "Are you the real America or an impostor?" but, seeing that that question was much-too-straightforward, he said, "What are you doing here?"

"To show you something cool!" Little America said gleefully. "Have you heard of 'time travel' before? Come on! It's super cool! I'll show you!" Then he turned and jumped into the storage room, shutting the door behind him.

"H-HEY! WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE IN MY STORAGE ROOM?!" England screamed, then swung open the wooden door to get Little America out of the storage. He expected to see his storage, of course, but...

It was snowing.

In the room.

"WHAT THE ****?!" England screamed, backing away.

Little America's head peeked from beyond the door. "Come in!" he said invitingly.

"WHY THE **** WOULD I GO IN THERE?!" England screamed.

Little America only giggled innocently. "Yeah, it might look a little strange," the child explained, (_Might? It obviously looks strange! _England thought) "but don't worry. Just come!"

Still wondering how a young version of America could possibly appear on the face of the Earth and how this bizarre phenomenon of this Little-America-chibi-thingy could replace all of England's storage with a snowing scene, England stayed in place.

Frustrated, Little America grabbed England's feet and started dragging him into the snow.

"AGH!" England screamed, sliding on the wooden floor as Little America dragged him. Of course, Little America had a scary amount of strength, and therefore could drag England easily, as if England were simply a small bag of feathers. They entered the snowy land inside the room, and then the door closed.

Then the world inside the room immediately began to spin. At least, it looked that way. England wasn't sure if it was actually moving or not, but the snow was twirling around him. He shivered. In the thick snow, he couldn't see Little America. He hoped Little America was okay.

As the snow got so thick that it was basically an opaque screen of whiteness, England was pretty sure that the Little-America-phantom-appearance-person-thing was really a doppelgänger or demon of some sort, and he was going to be trapped in this cold swirling snow for all of eternity.

The snow still swirled. England felt like being trapped in the eye of a hurricane; inside the eye, not a speck of the magic snow touched him, but outside the eye, a heavy snowstorm spun furiously. It swirled for such a long time that England had time to sit there and think. He didn't really want to think too much while trapped in a storage room, but there was nothing else to do. But it was hard to think while his teeth were chattering and clattering as if on a wild frenzy. Still...he didn't know how America could possibly turn into a Little America and somehow get into England's house without England's knowledge...had Little America been there the whole time? Perhaps the Little America doppelgänger was the product of some failed spell...but England couldn't remember having casted any spells lately. Perhaps it had something to do with Norway or Romania? No matter what, if England didn't get a coat soon, he was going to turn into ice.

As the snow swirled, England wondered if he had turned off the lights in the house. If he didn't, he was going to get a nasty electric bill when he returned..._if _he returned...

Then he was sitting on a grassy hilltop as the warm sun shined into his face-

"Argh, the sun's in my eyes!" England snapped them shut. Slowly, he opened his eyes again.

Warm sunshine illuminated the springtime green of the fresh grass on the hill. The sky was a clear blue, except for where small tufts of cottonlike clouds served as decorative ornaments. A cool wind blew softly, ruffling the grass which contrasted the tall, motionless silhouettes of the mountains beyond.

England's first thought at this beautiful landscape was,

_Where the **** is this?_

It rang some sort of distant bell that he couldn't put his finger on. He thought he'd seen this before, but...

"IGGY!"

England jumped and instinctively looked behind him, where the voice came from. Little America was sitting right behind him, playing with the grass.

"Just how long have you been sitting there?!" England demanded.

"I was trying to see how long it would take you to realize I was here before I had to yell!" Little America giggled.

"Why you little-" England was about to protest, but stopped himself. He thought he heard a voice-he was hearing a lot of voices today-not Little America, but still familiar...

Little America titled his head, eager but confused.

The voice was...it was...

England looked into the distance.

"Aagh!" Little France was screaming at Little England because Little England's hair made him look like a big yellow caterpillar. It was rather amusing, but not for England. He glared demonically at Little America.

"Was this...the thing you wanted to...show me...AFTER THE MESS I'VE BEEN THROUGH, THIS IS WHAT I AM SHOWN?!"

"Eep!" Little America jumped. "Sorry, this was the wrong one! M-My bad!" He punched a big red button that appeared out of nowhere, and instantly the snow began to swirl around England again.

He was back in the depressing gray world of swirling snow and it was horrible. The temperature felt like negative ten million degrees. No, that would be exaggerating. Gentlemen don't exaggerate that wildly. It would be more gentlemanly to give a more accurate estimate, of course.

But England had no time to think of a gentlemanly estimate, for he was suddenly in gray, stone streets. It was winter here. The gray clouds above were so thick that they were nearly opaque, casting a strange, eerie shadow over everything.

"Wonderful!" England groaned sarcastically. He looked behind him, expecting to see Little America again. And there Little America was-bubbly, childish face, somehow not complaining about walking barefoot on a bumpy road scattered with small sharp stones.

"What do you want this time?" England moaned, tired and annoyed.

"Follow me," Little America said, and ran off.

"Don't make me run!" England yelled, running after the little toddler. Of course, he was faster than the child, so after he caught up with Little America, he slowed to a walk, jogging occasionally.

"Hide here," Little America pointed to an alley. "So you can see it but you won't mess up time."

It was a dangerous-looking suspicious alley, but England had been through so many suspicious things today that this was perfectly normal. He simply rolled his eyes and sat in the stupid alley. Strangely, instead of thinking about the fact that he was time traveling, he kept trying to calculate how many lights in the house were still on. What were the electric rates again? England couldn't remember. He rested his chin on his fist, thinking hard. A few of the lights in the kitchen were on, he knew. But how many? Maybe it was-

"Earth to England! Earth to England!" Little America pouted, as England snapped out of his trance.

"Look, now, look!" Little America whispered suddenly, pointing.

England slowly stood up to see. A small hooded figure was moving in the distance. A flash of messy blond hair peeked out under the black hood.

_Hey...that's my younger self. _England realized.

Little England wasn't alone. With him were a small pink unicorn and the unique green of a Little Flying Mint Bunny. It was an extremely odd sight to combine such sparkly, magical creatures with the cold, gray, stony streets of the background.

The small bunch emitted constant murmuring, but they were too quiet for England to make out the words. Then Little Flying Mint Bunny darted somewhere, out of sight, and came back a few moments later, carrying a small wrapped box.

Little England's eyes were filled with surprise as he received the box, murmuring something. He stared at the box in his hands with wonder. Then he slowly peeled the paper and opened the box gingerly, as if it might break into pieces at any moment.

He unwrapped a little spellbook, its cover intricately decorated with gold ink that stood out against the otherwise solid black cover, implying lots of great new magic and spells inside. Delighted, Little England looked up at his friends, who walked and flew around him in circles. Something wet but sparkling fell from the sky, then another one, and another one...A sprinkle of sparkling white flakes began to float in the air-the wonderful snow of winter was beginning to fall.

Now Little America looked back at England with expecting eyes.

"Hi there." England said nonchalantly, shaking his head to prevent too much of the snow from falling in his hair. Then thinking, he asked, "Are you able to see magical creatures?"

"Not usually, but now I can with this time thingy!" Little America replied, delighted. "They're so cute!"

"Okay." _Nothing super suspicious, then, _he thought. "Now, what were you actually going to ask me?" England said to Little America.

"Oh yeah!" Little America remembered. "Do you understand it now that I showed this to you?" Little America looked at England, and unquestionable eagerness in his voice.

"Understand what?" England tilted his head slightly, confused.

The corners of Little America's mouth dropped almost comically. "Y-y-you STILL don't g-g-get it yet?" his eyes were slightly wet.

"Don't cry so easily!" England scolded, forgetting that Little America was such a tiny, young child. "What is it that you're trying to make me understand, anyway?"

Pouting with frustration, Little America changed the scene again.


	3. Chapter 3

England was in that annoying blizzard-of-swirling-snow place again for only a brief moment before he ended up in his perfectly-cleared-of-snow driveway that he was very proud of.

"Am I officially home?" England wondered aloud, confused, shivering slightly in the cold.

"Not really," Little America appeared beside him.

"Are you _still _making me go through this weird time machine of yours?" England sighed, tired, still shivering.

"Yes." Little America replied stubbornly. "Don't be so fussy! Now, hurry up! Hide in those bushes!"

It was annoying how you couldn't be noticed when you mess with time.

Because of a bush's branches, it is actually rather difficult to physically go _inside _some bushes, therefore, England simply stomped behind them and sat, wondering when Little America would quit dragging him around.

And then-_England came into the driveway. _

Little America had not taken England far back in time. He'd only taken him to minutes ago. Therefore, the England that was arriving was around the same age as the England behind the bushes...it's all very confusing to try to keep them straight in your head when you have England, who's behind the bushes, watching England come into the driveway. To make this easier, the England behind the bushes shall be "England" and the England coming into the driveway shall be "Britain."

Britain was walking leisurely when he abruptly stopped at the mailbox. He carefully pried open the small door, and slowly fingered through the mail inside. At last, his hand found a particularly unique letter. He hesitated, then, with an urgent look on his face, opened that suspicious letter immediately.

"UGHHHHHHHHHHH I HATE YOUR BL*ODY GUTS!"

England, confused at why Little America was making him see this (it was already in his memory), he stared into space, bored. His foot was falling asleep, so he shifted his position slightly.

_Rustle. _His leg brushed against the bush.

Luckily, Britain simply stomped on.

"Do you get it do you get it do you get it do you get it?" Little America exclaimed, after Britain had gone into the house.

"Why don't you just _tell _me what I'm supposed to 'get'?" England sighed.

Little America's face fell again. "That's not how it works," he mumbled.

Magical-white-snow-stuff-flake-things began to swirl around England again, and England was back in that gray, blizzard of a place that was supposedly the interior of his storage room. He really started wondering how in the world Little America was here in the modern era, and how in the world Little America was wielding some kind of time-traveling sorcery. It was all too confusing for England's brain, and he was also thinking about when Little America would seriously just let him go back to his house again and finish chopping broccoli.

The snow turned green, and England started panicking that it could be poisonous. But then he remembered that he was basically stuck in a time portal and couldn't get out. He _would _use magic to escape, but where in this huge blizzard could he draw a magic circle? There was nothing he could do while stuck in this time portal. Aw man.

Then the ground melted into a dark hardwood floor. The snow turned white again and lessened a little as furniture grew into view, and, finally, a ceiling closed off the snow completely. England looked around wildly. Little America stood behind him. The child put a finger to his mouth, motioning for England to be extra quiet now.

It was really annoying how you couldn't be noticed when you messed with time.

England sighed (quietly) and sat behind a velvet-colored couch, as there was no better place to hide, and if he didn't at least look like he was trying to hide, he was pretty sure Little America was going to pout.

He looked around the room as well as he could while sitting behind a couch. The velvet couch was in the center of the room, and it faced the fireplace, which was giving the room its light and warmth. The walls were painted a brick-red color. A window to the left showed only darkness outside. A calendar on the wall told England that it was December 26th, about thirty years into the future.

Time travel was confusing.

Then the Future England walked into the room, a small white blanket draped over his shoulders. He was dressed in baggy striped clothes, and carried a small cup of tea. He made his way to the couch and sat down, feeling the warmth of the fire as he gingerly sipped hot tea.

"It feels so wonderful not to have to go to those parties," Future England muttered to himself, content. He was referring to America's Christmas parties. Over three years ago, he'd discovered a certain spell that allowed him to mess with time and skip the holidays. The spell was easier to perform than he'd thought. The magic circle was a little complex, but, after a while, drawing it was second nature. The incantation was fairly simple. Then he would sketch certain symbols that represented the date he wanted to skip on the circle, and the spell would be complete. This spell was particularly useful, since America pretty much threw a loud party every time there was a holiday.

But without the winter holidays, the colder season of the year was much darker and gloomier, and the snow looked more chilling than sparkling. But that was okay, right? Sitting by the fire with a good cup of tea was just as nice. Well, it was a little lonely, because all of the magical creatures who usually lived in the house were our celebrating the winter and the snow, whether it was a holiday or not. England didn't feel like joining them, because, even if he was alone, it was okay, right?

Right...?


	4. Chapter 4

Magic time snow briefly spun around England (not Future England), and he was in the darkness of his normal storage closet, in his normal home.

_Finally. _The weird time-traveling expedition was over.

Fumbling around for the exit and tripping slightly over a few boxes scattered on the floor, England reached out his arms and felt wildly for a sign of a door. In the darkness, he couldn't see a thing. He wandered around blindly, feeling for a door or at least a light switch. He turned around when his hands touched a wall. He almost tripped a few times. Then, finally, his fingers curled around the cold, smooth texture of a doorknob. England twisted and yanked.

The normal hallway of his normal house greeted him warmly. Now England saw that he had left the lights on in the house while he was gone. Ugh. He wondered how long he'd been gone. He hoped the electric bill wouldn't be too bad...

"Iggy! Over here!"

Oh dear.

Having been badgered almost the entire day by now, England spun around, exasperated.

There was Little America, sitting idly on the polished hardwood floor of England's normal house.

"Why are you always behind me? And why do you keep calling me 'Iggy'?!" England groaned.

Little America decided that England's questions were rhetorical and replied, "Do you understand it now? Do you? Do you?"

"No. I don't. I'm sorry." England retorted bluntly.

Then England's house flooded.

"WHY AFTER ALL OF THIS DO YOU NOT GET IT?" Little America cried, his furious tears being the cause of the flash flood. "WE WENT TO THE PAST, PRESENT, _AND _THE FUTURE! WAAAH! WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO! WERE YOU EVEN PAYING ATTENTION?" He started beating England's legs with his fists while England desperately tried to get a mop.

"Why don't you just once and for all _tell _me what I'm supposed to understand in _words_?!" England yelled back.

Little America sniffed and stopped beating England. "They've always said 'show, don't tell,' right...?"

Ah. So that was the reason behind all of this.

"Well, in this case, it's easier just to tell, because you do an awfully bad job of showing," England retorted.

Little America, being completely insensitive, just sniffled again.

Then England's house flooded again.

"YOU'RE ALWAYS TRYING TO GET RID OF CHRISTMAS BECAUSE YOU THINK IT'S THE WORST HOLIDAY EVER AND I BET IT'S BECAUSE OF THE PARTIES BUT A PARTY IS NOT COMPLETELY HORRIBLE YOU SHOULD TRY TO ENJOY CHRISTMAS MORE BECAUSE IT IS A JOYOUS HOLIDAY BECAUSE YOU CAN GET PRESENTS AND SING LITTLE SONGS WITH EVERYBODY AND IT'S REALLY FUN AND ALL OF THE LIGHTS ON PEOPLE'S HOUSES ARE REALLY PRETTY AND DECORATING A CHRISTMAS TREE IS SO MUCH FUN AND IF YOU EVER SAY YOU'LL TRY TO AVOID CHRISTMAS AGAIN I'LL COME BACK AND DO BAD THINGS TO YOU UNTIL YOU LEARN TO BE GOOD BECAUSE IF YOU'RE NOT GOOD THEN SANTA WON'T GIVE YOU PRESENTS AND THEN WINTER WILL BE ALL SAD AND THAT WOULD BE BAD SO YOU SHOULDN'T AVOID CHRISTMAS EVER AGAIN SO YOU CAN HAVE FUN BECAUSE IT IS A HOLIDAY AND HOLIDAYS ARE MADE TO CELEBRATE AND HAVE FUN-"

"OKAY! OKAY! JUST STOP BEATING ME UP!" England yelled. "I'll go to America's stupid party, alright?! I just need money for all the stupid things I'll have to buy-"

Little America held out a giant check.

"Oh, okay. Thanks." England said, taking the giant check, ready to cash it.

"Are you good now?" Little America asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," England replied.

"I'll be going, then!" Little America said, then smiled.

"So soon?" That smile on Little America's face...England pushed memories of old times to the back of his mind.

Little America waved. England's vision began to blur as Little America's image faded and disappeared. 

* * *

Was it a figment of his mind or reality?

England didn't know. One moment, he was standing in front of his storage room. The next, he was chopping broccoli in his kitchen, Flying Mint Bunny dozing on the table. The only thing that was different than before was a giant check on the stony kitchen counter. 

* * *

"Okay. My goal is that I'll only call America a w*nker twice. No more than twice," England muttered to himself as he walked briskly, crunching the ridiculously thick layer of salt on the sidewalk under his feet, pulling two large suitcases stuffed with the required greasy food and streamers. His scarf flapped wildly in the chilling wind. The clouds in the sky were gray and heavy. It was probably going to snow soon. It was 4:56pm, and if England was late to the 5pm party, America would do something bad.

But there it was! A few meters ahead of him, one particular house was decorated with so many holiday lights, it looked as if the house itself were made of wires and light bulbs. England chuckled to himself. How very like America it was to do such a ridiculously excessive decoration. A huge American flag stood planted in the front yard, surrounded by small clay Santa statues. On the roof of the house, a "ONE WAY" sign pointed downward into the chimney.

England reached the front steps, balanced one of his suitcases on the porch, and gingerly pushed the doorbell. A sparkly wreath hung on the door, decorated with mini American flags.

Loud heavy metal music slapped England's ears as an excited America swung open the door.

"HIYA, IGGY!" America yelled over the music. "IT'S 4:59! YOU'RE ALMOST LATE! LUCKILY, YOU MADE IT! HAHAHA! COME IN!"

"This stupid party..." England mumbled, his remark drowned out by the music.

With no choice now, England walked in to the house, hands over his ears, as America easily carried both of the heavy suitcases with one hand and shut the door. "THE FOOD HAS COME!" he yelled, so excited for the food that he forgot about the streamers.

England entered the room and saw the grim faces of the other countries, all forced to this party. Germany nodded slightly in greeting; with the music being the way it was, there was no way England could've heard him if he'd spoken. A richly decorated and sparkly Christmas tree stood in the corner. Stockings hung over the empty fireplace that was waiting for Santa. Holiday lights bordered all four walls of the room. A giant glass bowl of fluorescent blue sweets sat on top of a small wooden table in the center of the room. All of the countries were sitting in couches or chairs, miserable. England sat in the only space available, in a wood chair in the corner.

An awkward silence hung over the room (except for the music) as all of the countries exchanged apprehensive glances. Japan stared at the bowl of blue sweets, becoming nauseous as he wondered if America would make them eat the blue horrors. England thought that if it hadn't been for the music, a cricket would've been found somewhere.

America suddenly dashed into the room, almost knocking over the bowl of blue sweets, excited and jumpy. "IT'S FIVE-O'-CLOCK! NOW LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!"

England realized that it wasn't Christmas he wanted to skip. It was just this party.

"HAHAHA!" America screamed, turning the music up even louder, drowning out the sound of everything else and breaking everyone's ears. "HAHAHA!"

"America, you bl*ody w*nker..."


End file.
